


Scenic World

by unichords



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:52:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2290940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unichords/pseuds/unichords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't unusual to find love at a party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scenic World

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time posting fanfiction on the internet! i hope i do the characters justice, and that my english wouldn't be too unbearable. if there's any constructive criticism that you can give me, please feel free to put them in the comments section.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song covered by john is this charming man by the smiths. please listen to it while reading the first chapter if you've got the time. :)

Large crowds of people weren't really your thing, but here you are anyway, in what’s probably the biggest party you've ever been to so far.

Normally you’d skedaddle the fuck out of here, but the party is being held in your home. Yours. It isn't even your party. You do have an older brother with a persistent friend who insisted that they hold their party at your house, though. Granted, you could always leave and go to an all night diner, but as the perfect example of a supporting sibling that you are, you decided to stay. You slipped out of your room a few minutes ago, after much debate, dressed in a way where your clothes are delicately disheveled to show how much you just don’t care.

You were greeted with music that was uncharacteristically a lot mellower than what your brother and his friend usually listened to when you reached the end of the staircase. The striking chords of the guitar lingered in the air, and a distinct riff floated along with it. Walking towards the source of the music, you come to realize that it wasn't prerecorded at all. It was coming from actual people. It was live, and so were the instruments. You were stunned by this revelation. Was your brother holding a gig in your home? Without telling you? You could have killed it in this crowd, playing your own music with just as much passion as the group playing on the makeshift stage. You make your way through the crowd of high and drunken people, towards the living room where the band’s all set up and playing. You note with a nod that the boy singing had a vibrant tone to his voice, and it meshed harmoniously with its backing. His voice also had a faint hint of melancholy to it, though it could just be the song creeping up to him. Whatever little nuances you noticed in his voice though, were all pushed down with how much you appreciated it- like it’s been sent from the heavens and it’s come to grace the unworthy ears of the audience. His voice is definitely something you wouldn't mind listening to frequently.

The music dies down after the last beat of the song, and the people around you clap. They don’t just clap, actually. They hoot and holler, pleased with the show that the boy put on for them with his friends. He takes the applause with a sheepish smile at first, before taking in a deep breath and flashing a big, confident smile. It’s contagious. You feel the corners of your lips quirk upwards, too. You learn that his name is John by the sounds of the hollering around you. After a while of excited chattering from the partygoers, the usual party music starts playing, and with that, you take your leave, parched with the thirst for alcoholic drinks.

If there’s one thing that you love about your brother’s friend, it’s that she kicks ass at mixing some sweet as hell beverages.

When you arrive at the kitchen, you’re greeted with a small squeak and two claps. You smile faintly. It was almost too predictable that she’d be the only one mixing the drinks. “Hey Roxy. Got time to concoct one of your magical elixirs for yours truly? I’ve been itching to get pissed for weeks now, and what better way to get pissed than with the magic you manage to pour into that red solo cup?” She laughs at that, all sweet and genuine as she waves her hand passively. "Please, Dave. Save your flatter-ay for another day.” Her thin eyebrows waggle, obviously pleased with her rhyme. “But, of course! I've always got time for you, boo.” She gives you her signature wink, and you can’t help but laugh a little. 

Roxy and your brother have been friends since they were children, and such is the case with you and her little sister, Rose. The two of them are beautiful, intelligent, and pretty fucking bomb- in lack of better terms. Roxy makes quick work of the drink, and hands you the cup after a few moments. You thank her with a nod, swishing around the liquid before taking a sip. It was good, and that much was to be expected from Roxy Lalonde.

“Did you catch the guy who sang that Smith’s song, though?” She asks, leaning on the counter and idly carding her hand through her hair. Before you could answer though, a girl walks into the kitchen, snags a beer rather violently, then walks away. You recognize her as the one who played guitar earlier, and you regret not dishing out a comment about how flawless her riff was. You shrug and reply to Roxy in a nonchalant manner. “Yeah. Pretty good. Who was that guy, anyway? Never saw him at your parties- but I mean, that probably has something to do with the fact that I don’t normally go.” She snorts. You smile. “He’s Janey’s little brother. I've heard him play before, so I thought, hey! Why not invite him over to a party? Plus, he’s a nice guy. Pluuus, he’s one of Rose’s friends.” You can already hear the slur in her words, so you let out a small puff of air as a sign of your amusement. “A friend of Rose is a friend of mine. Catch you later, Ro-Slice. There’s a guy I need to add to my social circle.” You raise your hand to wave good bye, and Roxy raises her hand in return with a grin on her face. You spend a good hour looking for your brother, Rose, the guitarist, and John. But to no avail.

As you exit the kitchen and into the living room again for the nth time, with your nth cup of booze, you spot the same girl who played guitar earlier on. She was sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, taking occasional sips from her beer. “Hey. Props on totally getting that riff on point earlier.” You say coolly, moving to sit beside her. She looks at you like you've just said one of the craziest thing a man could ever say. With a raised brow, she parts her painted lips to speak. “Thanks, now do me a favor and stand up, turn around, and-“ 

“-And go away? Thaaat’s not a nice thing to say to a stranger, Vriska.” You twist around slightly to see who joined your conversation, and you find your jaw slackening a bit. Catching yourself, you shut your mouth and smirk slightly. John, the boy you were going to interrogate this girl about, was standing just behind the couch you sat on. Vriska’s voice had so much venom in it. You’re relieved that he cut her off. You would have socked her in the jaw if she had tried to continue her little quip. 

John props an arm on the backrest, and rests his chin on his hand. He looks a lot paler than he did before, and you've got the feeling that he’s had a little too much to drink. This suspicion is confirmed when he raises a finger as if to excuse himself, ducks to the nearest potted plant, and hurls the alcohol out of his system. Vriska laughs at the turn of events, snorting and covering her face. You’re a little put off by Vriska, but mostly you just feel sorry for John. It takes him several minutes to calm down, and you note that you’re probably going to have to burn that plant the next day. His legs are a little wobbly when he straightens up, and he groans with a hand pressing against his head.

“You okay?” You question, but it isn’t him who replies. This girl needs to step off. “Of _course_ he’s fine! He’s just a little shit who can’t hold his liquor.” She rolls her eyes, standing up. There’s something about the way she elongates her words that pisses you off. John flops down onto the couch to take her place beside you, but not before he sticks out his tongue at Vriska when she flicks his forehead as she goes off to who knows where. “She’s right, honestly. Two beers usually send me to a drunken state already. I've gulped down some pretty strong shit tonight so I’m feeling pretty woozy.” He laughs an embarrassed laugh. “I actually think I might go soon.” He continues, and you can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“So soon? Man, it’s only been an hour since you totally blew everyone away with your voice. Bask in your five minutes of fame. Grab a nice girl. Make out with her a little. Learn everyone’s name and become the life of the party. Fucking own that-“ He interrupts with a snort, and you raise a brow, mid-sentence. “I stopped listening at the word ‘fame’, you can stop talking now.” 

What an asshole.

You manage to distract him, and the two of you spend the next hour getting to know each other. The topics of your conversations range from personal things like friends, family, and school life- to other less personal things- like weather and politics. You learn some things that you already know, like how he has a sister named Jane and a friend named Rose, and you learn some things that you didn't know- like how he and his sister are trained in classical piano since they were old enough to play, and how he’s deathly allergic to peanuts. You comfortably joke around, too. At one point you tell him a story about the camping trip your family had with the Lalonde’s and his jaw drops in awe as he exclaims, “Whoa! I didn't know you were friends with Rose, too!” to which you reply with, “Yeah, since we were kids. We had Rugrats-esque adventures wherein I’m Chuckie, she’s Tommy, and my bro and Roxy are Angelica and Suzie respectively.” You catch him rolling his eyes at you, but judging from the smile on his face, he doesn't mean anything bad about it. You then start talking about TV shows and movies after that, and you discover that he’s got a taste in movies that could only be described as incredibly geeky. His taste in music though, was pretty damn wild. The music he listens to range from The Smiths to Disclosure to They Might Be Giants, but he says he’s more into disco-funk than anything else. It doesn't even occur to you that you haven’t introduced yourself properly with how well you two were getting along.

He cuts you off again when you start spitting out some sick rhymes about rapping robots and kickflipping pirates, looking down at his watch. You were going to tell him off about how rude it is to cut someone off when they’re in the zone, but the intention fades away when you see the apologetic look on his face. “I really gotta go, dude. It was nice meeting you.” You purse your lips. “… Sure. Ditto. Want me to walk you out?” You quietly hope that he’d allow you to, and your heart swells for some reason when he laughs and nods, making a comment about how charming the act was under his breath. 

The trek to your front porch was uneventful, and once you've arrived, you pocket your hands and face John. “Hey, so… Do you usually go to parties?” The question’s more fueled with the need for him to stay a while longer, than with your curiosity. “Well, no, not really. I would go out more, but I haven’t got a stitch to wear.” You let out a puff of air, much like the one you've done when you were speaking to Roxy. “It’s gruesome that someone so handsome would care.” And he smiles, which makes you smile, but in the way where you barely do. 

The night ends with his back facing you, as he walks home from where you live. You make a mental note to send Rose a text about her dear friend John in the morning. It would be a shame if you were to waste a potential friendship just like that.


End file.
